


Reflection of sin

by Royswordsman (RoySwordsman)



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Captain America, Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Comic), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Civil War, Civil War (Marvel), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-25 13:51:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoySwordsman/pseuds/Royswordsman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Civil War; a first person reflection on Tony battling the demons of his past and considering going back to his old habits of drinking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflection of sin

 

Some days are harder than others.

I would stare at that bottle that sat by the corner for hours on end, watching the sun as it moves position, reflecting the light through the bottle and creating rainbows on my dark wooden desk. Refraction, I would think to myself, whereas I know most others would take the gleaming bottle edge as a sign to take another sip, but it’s been a long time. After attending AA meetings and holding that sobriety chip in my hand I’ve felt much stronger. I don’t even know why I keep those things in my office, probably because the crystal of the sherry bottle attracts other entrepreneurs or corporate big-wigs and encourages conversation. The bottle belonged to my father, and it’s one of the few things of his that I actually kept in my office.

I blame the loneliness that drives this feeling of absolute desolation. This overwhelming feeling of self-doubt and guilt that drives me close to tears, and yet I refuse to let one fall from my eyes because I question whether it is better to be feared for being invincible, or respected as a human and it’s at this point where I question where Iron Man stops and where Tony Stark begins. When does Tony Stark become accountable for his actions? When is it deemed acceptable for Tony Stark to drown in his emotions and fall into the pool of blood that he has created and just scream for help? When will people see me for who I am, rather than the armour that protects me? I am not a knight, I’m the human.

Many geniuses are considered insane upon closer inspection; Einstein, Michelangelo, Lord Bryon and yet they were so respected for their work and because of their contributions to society that they were overlooked. And yet I had become part of a system with zero accountability and my work had become so transparent due to the millions of lives that were lost by my hands and my craft, which my respectability had been completely lost to and thus others sought to pry into my life and pressure me to breaking point. My contributions to society are overlooked and even as I try to do my best and push the company away from the image that my father had created and so they label me insane because I’ve been able to wash away what I’ve done in the past, as well as what my father had done, forever dwelling in his shadow as much as I try to reach toward the light. It seems the more that I reach for it, the larger the shadow becomes.

There he is again, my father. He always seems to prop up in conversation. One would think if you hate someone that much that you would stop thinking about them, but he’s always there and he always haunts me. He introduced me to my demon after all, that demon in a bottle that comes after me time after time, the demon that no one can protect me from but myself. It’s in that moment that my eye catches the label again and I would sit and think back to my first sip. I was young, a kid, and my father made me taste it claiming that it’d make me a real man. I remember my first taste like it was yesterday; the bitter aftertaste that burned my throat the moment that I inhaled after drinking it, along with that an astringent quality without any sweetness. I would hope that would make me a man in my father’s eyes, but no, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough; even if I did everything he asked it was never enough.

I knew I would see him in hell, facing him when I was up against Mephisto, with that demon that was made to look like my father. The way he yelled at me made me tremble like I was 5 years old again and I could feel my eyes filling with tears but I was too afraid of being called a ‘sissy’ again among other insults. I was behind my armour at the time which was meant to protect  me, after all I am the invincible Iron Man, but it was at that point that my armour began to fracture and crumble and I could feel the pain surging through my heart. I had to resort to praying and hoping that my words would get to him as much as his words were haunting me, like daggers in my heart. I mentioned the unconditional love my mother gave us both and that had managed to push him back and allowed me to defeat him, if only my mother’s love could have been that effective when he was alive. Everything spiralled when she died and he felt nothing but pain which he would inflict on me, as though I wasn’t suffering enough from the loss of the one person who actually showed me what love was, if only for a fleeting moment it seems now that I put it into perspective. To constantly be battered down by the one person that mattered in my life, to watch him build this empire right before my eyes and to witness its downfall, to feel it collapsing on me when I’d let it fall when Obadiah had managed to gain control. Every night I would stare into the mirror and look at my reflection and see him, I’d see his growl, I’d feel every word crawling beneath my skin and tearing me apart. He would haunt my dreams, my nightmares, constantly telling me that I was never good enough and that I was destroying his work, once again only living in the crimson tainted shadow that he had created for me to live in.

I am grateful for what I was left and many people misunderstand that. I am grateful for my fortunes and for being given the opportunities and materials to build my success story, however I don’t wish for my life’s work to be built upon what my father had left me. I loved his work but I hated him, and his creations echo his voice and personality. I wanted to start from scratch and make people who really helped me proud, like Jarvis and Pepper and even… Him. I try my hardest every day to redeem myself, to push myself away from those demons that want to pull me back. But like I said earlier, some days are harder than others. Some days I see the bottle glimmering and I reach for it, I swallow heavily and inhale that scent, shutting my eyes.

People don’t know why I really used to drink, not only was it because of my father, following his example, trying to be the man who created the company that I was forced into, trying to fill those shoes that he left for me. But it was an escape from reality, for a while being Iron Man was my escape. I was a superhero that people depended on, this alternate identity, a knight of the round table, and then the media caught light of who I was and it was then the pressure came tumbling down. I couldn’t even hold a stable relationship, and most times, it wasn’t even my fault. Bethany, Whitney, Roxanne, Joanna, Janice, Sunset… And many, many more, there’s not a name I haven’t forgotten. I watched them leave me, even Rumiko, I watched her too… I loved her, and her blood to this day stains my hands… among others. I loved them, I cared for them all. I’m not someone who sleeps around for the hell of it, no, I just… Don’t like to be alone. There’s a reason that I was so eager to create an AI as a kid, at least it kept me company. Growing up in private schools and having the Stark name meant that I was always isolated and forced into studies to preserve the reputation of my father. I needed someone to talk to, someone to need me as much as I needed them, and that is what I always sought out in a partner. I could withhold relationships for long periods of time, I was even inches away from marrying Bethany, and yet I was still deemed as someone who couldn’t hold down commitments by the media. They were the ones that wanted to sabotage me and yet I loved them all, I opened my heart and they all pushed me away. For a man that already has a broken heart to start with, so to speak, I needed someone to help mend it and they only destroyed it further and pushed me back into the demons I was trying to avoid, with the pressure of the media only adding to it all. That hurts, you know, especially when you’re trying as hard as you can to keep the flame of love burning only for it to be extinguished by the other party, and yet, I’m always to blame. It’s always me. Just like my father said, I’m my own downfall, I’ll bring myself down because I can’t do it right, I can’t live correctly according to his rules or the rules of society. So then, what does that make me? Does it make me crazy? Am I a genius in that right? Does my logic surpass society and make me this… womanising monster?  All monsters should be killed and slain by heroes, and that’s why I stood so proudly during the war, not because I was in the wrong but because if I was this monster then a knight would come and slay me. I was waiting for him to come, the star spangled knight wielding a shield of purity and justice, colliding with my own armour and sending me back. But no, I slayed him.        

The one person that tried to help me and I pushed him away because I was so damn afraid that I would do the same thing that I must have done to drive the others away. I didn’t want to love anyone like I’d loved in the past so I would argue; I would taunt and tease until he yelled. I would get some masochistic bliss out of him shouting at me, even though I know he hated to shout. I would get emotions out of him, confessions that no one else would ever achieve. He saw my demons and he ensured that they remained in the darkest corners where they belonged, even when I would fall for their lures over and over, he, as the knight he was, would protect me and save me from them. The hero of my childhood dreams had become part of the world that I lived in and he was risking it all to protect me. Needless to say I was so very scared of hurting him, so much so that I coated my heart in barbed wire around him, but somehow his words had a way of weaving past all the wires and making me feel so much better. All up until that day…

I let him fall; I stood by his body and protected it with all of my might as I laid my eyes upon the sleeping prince who my heart had yearned for. He would have saved and protected me; he would’ve looked after me… I know he would have, he wouldn’t have just left. A man of loyalty with a reputation of loving so tenderly, that’s who I wanted to be with, that’s the guy who would protect me from everything. He’d known about my father and told me a little of his too, and I’d researched the rest in the files that were left. We were so similar and I know he had nothing but a pure heart, after all this was the guy I wanted to be like when I was a kid, this was the very man who my father used to prattle on and on about, searching for him. In a way, I think my father lost himself the second that Captain America had fallen off the face of the earth so it seemed and I think that was what pushed him into his work, trying to create a substitute, a deterrent just as Captain America was supposed to be. Cap was made to be a weapon as the ultimate soldier and thus the best weapon that the US had ever produced and without him, my father was forced to find another way around protecting the US. So basically, after the war, I destroyed the best weapon the US had. Once again tarnishing my father’s work and succumbing to the darkness and foul habits that plagued me. He was my one light, the man who kept me company, and he was gone.

I would scrub my hands every day until my skin was red and raw to try and get the blood off them, constantly seeing it swirl around my drain in the sink as I would wash it. Steve’s blood, Rumiko’s, everyone who I had ever killed or hurt because of my reckless actions. I should’ve confessed, I should’ve told him how much I loved him but I only wanted to protect him…

I hate being insecure. Tony Stark is a man of confidence. But what happens when that confidence is nothing but a façade? He drowns, I drown, in my own self-loathing and hatred once again and I become that monster, just as I said I was. I see my father’s face in the bottles and I grab them and I try to drown.

I am talentless.

I am nothing.

I am a boy, not a man.

My life is lie.

I’m not the man you all think I am.

I am a murderer, revelling in pain of my long lost loves.

I am a shattered reflection of my father.

I am an alcoholic.

I am lost.

I am lost without him… Without my guiding star.

Let me drown, Steve, please, just let me. Why do you have to save me, why do you have to always save me?! I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve you, and I killed you, Steve! Why don’t you hear me screaming, why can’t you see that I’m trying to make you proud, I’m trying to make everyone proud! I want your love but I don’t deserve it, what’s wrong with me… What am I saying?

I had such good intentions, couldn’t you see?

Don’t save me now, I beg you. Let me do this; let me suffer for my sins. I should’ve died, not you, it was never worth it… It wasn’t worth it.

Let me join my father in hell, where I belong.

I am a demon, worse than him; I am the man I never wanted to be.

“ _Abandon all hope ye who enter here_ ”

As if I had much hope to begin with.

I grab that bottle and I press my lips to it with my quivering hand placed around its neck and slowly the liquid trickles down my throat and takes me to another world, the world where I confess my love and where all my dreams come true. I adore this tainted reality, where he holds me close and whispers words of affection to me and where he spends every day and night with me. Where we can live together in peace as the two tall icons of liberty and freedom with his fingertips laced with mine as we watch over the city together. I love this distorted dream world because I can feel everything so vividly, and I for once in my life, feel happy.

Then I awake with the bottles surrounding me, my face buried down in a my arms as I raise my head and gaze upon the sun rising and peeking through my window once again, repeating the same routine, over and over. My hand knocks away the empty bottles and I stare at the helmet of one of my suits that remains perched on my desk, judging me, frowning in the way that it does. It only judges me because it’s Iron Man, and I am just Tony Stark. Just. Tony Stark. I’m this mess of a human being, not the man who deserves to wear that armour; I’m far from invincible. I can’t even find my reason for being alive after the War, asides from mourning and trying to protect the city that seems to no longer want me, just like my ex’s, it’s grown bored of me. I should have expected as much.

The sun rising, a new day.

I spot another bottle that was untouched the night before, shimmering in the orange glow that bursts through my window.

I take a deep breath and my thoughts remain the same…   

Some days are harder than others.

Take me away, I beg you, demons of my past for I wish not to endure another day, take me to the land of my dreams, take me anywhere else but here. I can’t live without him, without my pillar, my rudder to keep me going.

Take me away Steve…

Please…  

…

I’m sorry. For everything.  

 


End file.
